


The Unintentional Heist

by cherrylove, ladyannabethstark, sansapotter



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Con Artists, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2014-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-12 17:19:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2118267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrylove/pseuds/cherrylove, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyannabethstark/pseuds/ladyannabethstark, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sansapotter/pseuds/sansapotter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jon Snow walks into the Golden Lion, an extravagant speakeasy owned by a spoiled heir, he expects it to be like every other con. But when a beautiful yet sad singer catches his eye and offers her help, Jon's priorities quickly change and the heist becomes more than just about the money.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Unintentional Heist

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a collaboration with my lovely friends, Sam and Hunter (aka the Extremely Classified Villainous Prodigy Cooperative). Thank you both for making my 100th prompt fill so amazing!

Jon pushed through the heavy mahogany door of The Golden Lion and was enveloped by the smoky air and dim lighting. This was the place. It didn’t look like much from the outside but the inside was an entirely different story. The interior cried out luxury and immense wealth. Shining, crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling over marble topped tables. The lounges, booths, and chairs were lined in crushed, soft velvet. Gold molding bordered the room and gold foil tinted delicate accents of the huge mural on the ceiling of the club. Jon shoved a hand into his pocket and walked towards the bar. He ordered a Manhattan and sat down on one of the stools. Running a hand over his hair, he turned towards the stage as a melodic voice reached his ears and took his attention away from his initial purpose.

The woman standing on the stage did not look like the rest of the females in the room, who had their hair cropped to their chins and elaborate dresses to make them shine. Her auburn hair was long, falling over her shoulders in soft waves. The garment that she wore was not covered in sparkling jewels, but it suited her perfectly. A long string of pearls around her neck was the only jewelry that she wore. Her look was simple but, in Jon’s opinion, she needed no sparkling gems or feathers to make her beautiful. The natural look that she wore was utter perfection and all thoughts of his job were chased from his mind. Her body swayed to the music as she sang, one pale hand touching the microphone stand and the other at her side twisting into the delicate material of her dress.

After a quick glance around the room he realized he was the only one distracted by the woman on the stage, impossible as it seemed. Well, not the only one. He found his mark; Joffrey Baratheon lazed in the corner booth nursing a tumbler of something clear, a lime floating under the rim. Gin. He would have to figure out the specifics later, case the joint first. That was the plan.

Case the joint. Pinpoint the weakness of The Golden Lion. Bring down Old Valyria’s biggest competitor. That was the plan, but there was always room for error. It didn’t matter how clearly a plan was laid out. There was always a chance that something, or someone, could change everything. As he looked upon the beautiful singer, and saw her looking back at him, Jon knew on instinct that she could either help or harm his efforts when it came to this job. The way that Joffrey Baratheon stared at her proved his thoughts.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jon saw a man approach the owner of the speakeasy to whisper something in his ear. Joffrey stood, finishing off his drink before leaving the room through a door behind the stage. Several men followed, closing the door behind them before he could get a glimpse at the room. At the back of his mind, Jon knew that the singing stopped but he tried not to pay much attention to it. He needed to stay focused on the plan.

“Champagne cocktail please Loras,” a soft voice said from beside him.

Jon’s head turned and he watched as she gracefully took the stool next to him.

“Anything for you,” the bartender replied.

Her head lowered, her fingers playing with the pearls around her neck as she crossed her legs. Jon told himself to look away from her, to focus on the job, but his eyes did not obey. They were fixed on her, easily able to read the sadness that burdened her.

“Here you go,” Loras said, sliding a champagne flute towards the woman.

She glanced up with a small smile that did not reach her eyes before picking the glass up to sip at the bubbly liquid. As if she suddenly felt his gaze on her, she looked at him with wide blue eyes. They simply stared, neither of them saying a word.

“I haven’t seen you around here before,” she said, tilting her head to the side as she studied him.

“I’m new in these parts,” Jon responded.

She glanced around before looking back at him, lifting her champagne up and tilting the flute towards him.

“Then you are welcome.”

Jon raised his glass as well, touching it to hers lightly.

“Thank you,” he replied before taking a drink.

That small smile appeared on her face again briefly before taking a drink of her own. “What brings you to Kingstown?”

“Oh just some business,” he said, swirling his drink in its tumbler.

“And The Golden Lion?” she asked.

“Seemed like a nice place to get a drink and hear a pretty girl sing,” he said, noting the way she blushed from the corner of his eye.

“Well there are plenty of places to get a drink and hear a pretty girl sing around here,” she said quietly, speaking more to her champagne flute than to him.

Jon nodded, “That there are, but this one seemed as good a place as any.”

She looked over at him for a moment and went back to staring at herself in the mirror that lined the wall behind the bar.

“Sansa! Come here! Now!” a rough voice barked out across the space and her body tensed visibly.

She slid off of the stool and smoothed the gauzy skirt of her dress. After fixing her slumped posture, she turned to walk gracefully and quickly across the club. Jon turned slightly to look at the direction from which the voice came. He watched, his hand tensing around his glass, as Joffrey took her roughly by the arm and dragged her quickly through the door he’d disappeared behind earlier. Jon frowned, turning away to stare into the mirror. After seeing the tortured look in her eyes, he knew what he was trying to deny. Everything had changed.

This could no longer be solely about bringing down Joffrey Baratheon and his speakeasy. It was about that and more now. He had to get her away from here. He had to help her so that the tortured look would no longer haunt those ice blue eyes of hers. A girl like that deserved comfort and love , not bruises marking her skin and dark rooms in the back of dimly lit bars. Jon was going to have to rethink his plan. But he would need more information first.

* * *

It wasn’t an accident, running into her the next day. A girl like that spent time at the shops, an educated guess, and an effective one. He could see her reflection from the shop window; she was sitting with a dark-haired friend at an outside cafe table. He would have to pretend their encounter was a coincidence, he was far better at fooling others. Sure enough she made her way into the shop as well, moving past the snow globes and paperweights to stand at his side.

“Hello again,” her voice was soft, nimble fingers plucking at the Newton’s Cradle before her. “I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself, Sansa.”

“Jon,” the click-clack of the gadget kept him grounded, there were ears everywhere.

“Jon,” she repeated. “Would you care to walk with me?”

It was his original intention, to offer his arm and invite her to walk, find out what she knew. He could adapt, leading her out of the trinket shop and on to the streets of Aegon’s High Hill.

“I know what you’re after,” she spoke once they were outside

“I don’t think you do,” he replied, trying to hide his surprise that she realized he was after anything.

She smiled back at him coyly.

“Maybe not, but I can guess.” He lifted a challenging brow. “It’s something to do with Joff.”

“Easy,” too easy, anything could relate to the belligerent owner.

“Is it something to do with the Lion?” she took his silence as an opportunity to continue, “do you mean to bring it down?”

“Maybe.” It was a terrible idea, revealing so much to this girl. Awful really, he didn’t know if he could trust her. It was unclear who her loyalty belonged to, if anyone.

“You can’t do it alone, you know that?” He was familiar with that tone, loyalty would cost him. “I could help, for a price.”

“If it’s money you want-” he was already splitting the pot with too many people.

“You have to take me away.” She cut him off, “if I help you, you have to take me away.”

Jon looked at the girl and shook his head, an amused look on his face, “I have help, what led you to believe I am also in need of yours?”

She stopped short, looking up at him with a serious expression.

“I’ve been a singer at the Lion for two years and I’ve known Joffrey for years before that. You can use someone who knows him. I know his habits and his preferences. I know who guards him and when, as well as who keeps an eye on the club when it is not open. You need me, Jon. Please, let me help.”

Her blue eyes were wide and pleading, clearly showing her desperation for him to agree. Jon stared back at her, trying to think of every reason not to do this. All that he could see was the fading yellow bruise on her throat and the healing cut on her lip. He couldn’t leave her there. He couldn’t and he wouldn’t.

Jon sighed, “Fine. I’ll admit. I might need your help, but you need to listen and promise you won’t do anything without telling me. You need to follow the plan. We have to be careful.”

Sansa nodded in agreement, looking relieved.

“Trust me, Jon, I know exactly how Joffrey can be when he’s angry. I won’t do anything to put your plan in danger.”

He nodded as well, reaching his hand towards her unconsciously. Sansa didn’t flinch when his thumb brushed over her lower lip and the cut that was there.

“Keep yourself safe. Nothing else is as important as that,” Jon said solemnly.

Sansa smiled slightly, reaching up to put wrap her fingers around his wrist.

“Thank you,” she breathed, leaning her head into his hand when he cupped her cheek.

He could not help it, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead.

“I’ll be at the Lion tonight,” Jon said in a low voice before stepping away.

He felt her eyes on him as he walked away. Jon did not usually pray, preferring to have faith in his abilities and in the men that he worked with. But at that moment, he prayed with every fiber of his being that Sansa wouldn’t get hurt. Her place in the middle of all of this was a dangerous one. Jon had to protect her. The money didn’t matter now. The con was about her.

* * *

The moon was just above the tall buildings of the city when Jon arrived at the Golden Lion. He straightened his suit before entering, walking straight for the bar as he glanced around. This time, Sansa was not on the stage. The only music came from the band’s instruments. As he sat, he heard her musical laugh and caught sight of her sitting at a table amongst several men. She had furs draped around her and her hair was twisted into a complicated style, keeping it off of her shoulders. A cigarette was dangling from her fingers and there was a champagne flute in the other hand.

Joffrey was sitting at her side, watching her with a dark satisfaction in his eyes as she spoke to the rest of the men. They were all enthralled by Sansa, hanging onto her every word as though they provided life. She had a small smile on her lips but her eyes were hesitant, as if she was afraid of saying the wrong thing. When Jon saw Joffrey’s arm around her shoulders and his fingers digging into her skin, he knew why she was scared.

“You aren’t the first one,” a voice said behind him

He turned his head to look at the bartender, Loras, as he slid a tumbler across the bar.

“Every man comes around and for the few hours that he’s here, he falls in love with her,” the other man said, nodding in Sansa’s direction. “Then he walks out of here, sobers up, and forgets that he ever saw her.”

Jon frowned, glancing back at her as she tossed her head back and let out another delighted laugh.

“I don’t see how anyone can forget her,” he said quietly.

“Then maybe you need to drink more. Trust me, you don’t want any part of that,” Loras said before turning to other, more interesting, customers.

He wouldn’t have listened to the warning even if he wasn’t determined to get Sansa out of Joffrey’s clutches. She was too valuable to forget. Jon watched as Joffrey pushed Sansa out of her seat and away from the table. She looked relieved, walking towards the bar. To her credit, she sat a few stools away from Jon.

Her dress was gold, and sparkled like the champagne Loras set before her. She didn’t even look his way, her feigned ignorance was maddening though she wasn’t meant to know him. Loras wasn’t lying when he said men fell in love with Sansa. In the time Jon nursed his first drink, a southside, he watched no fewer than six men approach her with hopeful smiles. It was all he could do to remember those words when a flat nosed man put his hand on the small of her back with a sneer.

As she walked alongside the bandy-legged man she turned just slightly, finding his eyes and inclining her head to the bar. He swore she winked, but he had to follow her lead before Loras cleared the bar. Or worse, read whatever she left for him.

_Same time tomorrow._

* * *

“He listens to his guard,” Sansa said the next day as they sat in the park.

Jon looked over at her. She was staring forward, her hair blowing in the window and her gloved hands twisting into her skirt.

“His mother hired them as advisors as much as she hired them for their muscles.”

Jon had figured as much from what he learned in his research. Barristan Selmy was one of Robert Baratheon’s advisors and since his death, Cersei had control over the business and she gave her son quite a few liberties with employees to oversee his behavior. Jon was familiar with how they operated their organization from the information that Sam gathered.

“They’re stubborn. Really, if Cersei knew they let Joff make so many decisions on his own she’d have them all wiped out and replaced,” Sansa continued. “But if they come to a consensus he follows their lead.”

Jon frowned slightly at her words, reading the subtle hints that she was trying to give him.

“Are you saying I need someone on the inside?”

“Yes,” she turned to look at him with a serious expression. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

He considered it for a moment.

“She hires men who can double as bodyguards?” he questioned.

Sansa nodded, “And he’ll need to be someone who has some experience in business.”

Jon knew exactly who could fit that description. He would have to call his aunt for a loan.

* * *

It is pure dumb luck when Aerys Oakheart dies. It gives Jon an opening to put in his own man in place. Jorah Mormont was his aunt’s most trusted man and that meant Jon trusted him too. This was key, now he had two people on the inside; Sansa and Jorah. Sansa knew the ins and outs of the Lion and how Joffrey ran things while Jorah would be able to provide information Sansa just wasn’t privy to.

Things are moving smoothly for Jon and his team. It seemed as though the plan was going to work fine and they would bring down Joffrey and The Golden Lion and he would be able to whisk the beautiful girl away from all of this and make her sad blue eyes sparkle. That was until Bowen Marsh walked into the club. He was Jon’s previous mark. He’d gotten away relatively unscathed and with ease. The plan worked but not without the man committing Jon’s face to memory. Jon cursed and turned away from where the man stood and looked over at Sansa. She was on stage and singing tonight. She looked radiant, but that sad look still filled her eyes and it tugged a part of Jon’s heart that he wasn’t entirely sure functioned anymore until now.

Marsh slid into a stool too close to Jon for his comfort. He ducked his head, turning it away in the hope that the man would not see him. His entire body was tensed and he focused his thoughts on Pyp and Grenn, who were meant to be keeping a watch outside of the Lion. It was more likely that they were playing with cards rather than paying attention, or they would have recognized their previous mark and dispatched him before he could come in and ruin everything. Jon knew that if he was revealed to be a con artist, he might just leave this club much less alive than when he entered.

And then Sansa would be trapped here forever, a voice whispered in his head. That would not do. He could not leave this world knowing that she would be subjected to whatever horrors Joffrey had in store for her. His entire body was tensed, his hands clenched into fists and his jaw tightened. As his heart pounded in his chest, he felt her eyes on him. Jon turned his head slightly, watching as she descended the stage as the band continued to play. She wore a concerned expression, though it was concealed so that he might have been the only one who saw it. Sansa was good at this game.

She began to approach him and he shook his head once. Jon could not call attention to himself. Her eyes moved to the other man who sat at the bar and he nodded, hoping that she would understand why he could not be recognized. But his hope was in vain, for it did not matter if she gave him away. A hand gripped the back of his jacket and turned him around. Marsh looked at him with a red face filled with fury. Before he could speak and reveal Jon’s presence, a slender hand came between them and peeled the man’s hand from Jon’s clothing.

“Surely you would not brawl here,” Sansa said softly, giving Marsh her most charming smile.

“This man is…”

Sansa turned Bowen’s full attention towards her before he could finish.

“No one who matters. Come, drink with me,” she said, taking his hand.

Jon watched with wide eyes as she drew him away to the private table that was usually taken by Joffrey and his companions. Sansa glanced back at him, indicating with a gesture of her head that now was his chance to leave. He did so, getting up quickly before making his way to the exit. Before he left, Jon looked over his shoulder. Sansa was pressed in close to the man, a small smile on her face as she spoke to him in a low voice. He felt a rush of gratitude towards her before stepping out of the club and walking towards the car parked on the other side of the street. He slammed his fist down on the window, stunning Pyp and Grenn out of their card game as he climbed into the back.

“Tell me how this is keeping a look out for me?” Jon asked, glancing between them.

They shared a guilty expression.

“Did you need rescuing boss?” Grenn asked.

Jon glowered at him.

“Bowen Marsh just walked in there,” he informed them.

They looked at him with wide eyes.

“How the hell are you not dead right now?” Pyp questioned.

Grenn and Jon both stared at him.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you’re not. But he could have had you dragged out in a body bag,” he continued, placating them.

“I got lucky,” Jon replied, still avoiding the inevitability of telling his partners that they had an extra person in on the plan. They didn’t need to know about Sansa yet. “You two need to pay better attention to this. There is more on the line than just money here.”

They both nodded at him quickly.

“We’ll take care of him,” Grenn promised.

“See that you do,” he replied.

Jon climbed out of the car, going to his own. They owed a lot to Sansa now. Jon likely owed her his life. He was even more determined to get her far away from the Lion now.

* * *

There was no reason he couldn’t be there. Not a single one. It was dangerous last night to come back after he was made, but that was last night. If Pyp and Grenn did their job right, Marsh would be long gone. He couldn’t stay away, not with those wide, tearful blue eyes asking for help. _You never could resist a damsel in distress_ , Sam would say if he were here, then he would pull him away. But Sansa was not just a damsel.

She was in the booth again in an amethyst dress with Joffrey’s arm around her shoulder. He shouldn’t be upset about it; she had proven herself to be a good actress after all. To think that she was still in this situation, tolerating the attentions of the horrible men surrounding her, made his fists clench. She was impervious to all of it; after watching her in action he learned quickly that her quickest smiles were her most false; that from under her coy, darkened lashes she could pin-point a man’s weakness; sometimes he wondered where she learned to con without conning.

Jorah caught his gaze and frowned, quickly Jon turned back to the bar. Damn, he’d be in for a lecture. If anyone would question his commitment to this job it would be Jorah. A man who truly belonged at his aunt’s side, one of her most trusted advisors for a reason. He would think Jon lost sight of the end; he would probably think Jon lost sight of who he was working for. Maybe he had.

Dany would understand, he was sure of it. She was sympathetic to most, it was probably the reason she welcomed him into the family so easily even though he was a stranger to her for nearly seventeen years. If given the chance, Sansa would probably earn his aunt’s sympathy almost immediately. But would Jon be allowed to see her? To tell her why this was so important? He would have to explain himself to Jorah first, and probably Barristan afterward. They might try to take him off the job, then what would he do? What would she do?

Joffrey’s arm held her in place beside him most of the evening. He only released her once so she could come to the bar for a new round of drinks.

“Is everything ok?” He asked before he could stop himself.

“It will be.”

Her eyes flickered to his for just a moment as Loras poured the drinks and softened slightly.

“Joff has taken notice of you. He wants to either meet you or rid the Lion of you. Soon you will be given a choice,” Sansa said quietly.

Jon nodded, looking over his shoulder at Joffrey. This was the chance they had been waiting for. Joffrey was initiating contact, which would lessen his suspicion and make him more open and free with his money.

“Can you set a meeting up?” he asked.

“With ease,” Sansa replied before walking away with drinks for herself and Joffrey.

Ease was not an exaggeration. The next day Jon was sitting in a chair across from Joffrey in the same room he’d watched Joffrey and Sansa disappear behind when he’d first gotten into town. Joffrey sat in a large chair that he supposed was meant to intimidate guests, but all Jon could see was a cruel little boy who wouldn’t have the smug look on his face for much longer if his plan worked out the way it was supposed to.

“I apologize if my presence has caused you unease. I’m a scout you see, looking to establish speakeasies in the north. The Golden Lion has a reputation that we hope to grow.” Sansa mentioned that Joffrey took well to praise. “If you’d like to consider a partnership,” Jon offered, knowing that Joffrey would not suggest such a thing himself.

“And what do you offer?”

“I offer an opportunity that could make you an even wealthier man. My employers heard of how successful you’ve been and sent me to investigate and see if everything is as impressive as the rumors imply. We’re looking for investors and they’re very interested in making you a partner.”

“A partner? So I would get a piece of the profit? I’m assuming it’s a...sizeable slice for me to be tempted to put my money into this new speakeasy,” Joffrey said, clearly intrigued as he leaned back in his chair.

Jon had been prepared for this, sliding a slip of paper across the table, Jorah leaned slightly to see what was written. He made a show of widening his eyes, then leaned to whisper something to Joffrey. Surprisingly it was Sansa the owner turned to for counsel. She frowned thoughtfully, and whispered something to him. How much up front? It was important for Joffrey to offer up most of his fortune for this plan to work.

Quickly he launched into his explanation, the more he invested the more of a share he would have in the profits. There were no taxes on speakeasies, he could make a fortune with enough of an investment. Joffrey probably realized it, but he needed the assurance. Sansa had prepared him for that, making a show of listening to Jon closely, asking carefully phrased questions, as though she was acting in Joffrey’s best interest. In the end, Jon supposed they all underestimated the way Sansa could sway his mood. Her smile was slight, but Jon saw it and knew that he had the speakeasy owner exactly where he wanted him. Still, Baratheon turned to Jorah for confirmation that it would be a good decision before reaching across the table to offer his hand.

“We have a deal.”

Jon left once the arrangements were made, he would be getting a transfer of twenty-five million dollars by noon the next day. For the first time since he met her, Sansa looked at ease even as he left the room. One more hurdle and the job would be done. He would keep his promise and help her get away.

* * *

They knew that they would have to be long gone once the money was moved, but it was still bittersweet. Jon wished he could stay and watch, just to see that smug smirk slip off Baratheon’s face when he realized he’d been conned. Sansa wished for the same, wanting to see the payoff for putting up with Joffrey for the past few years. As they drove away from Kingstown with the money in the trunk, Jon caught her looking longingly out of the back window. He reached over and put his hand over hers and Sansa turned to face him, curls framing her beaming face as she laced her fingers with his.

“Thank you Jon. You’re a regular knight in shining armor,” she said softly before leaning in to press her red-stained lips to his cheek.

Sansa sighed contentedly and turned once more to watch Kingstown disappear. Jon looked over at her and shook his head slightly, a small smile on his face.

“We make a good team,” he said, testing the waters.

Sansa’s answering grin was dazzling. Jon still had Sam, Pyp, and Grenn, but she added something to the mix that he didn’t know that they were missing. His friends were certainly charmed by her when they met up before leaving town.

“Don’t we?” she said, squeezing his hand.

“So you’ll stick around?” Jon questioned.

Sansa didn’t even have to consider it before nodding.

“I’m with you, Jon,” she said, her voice determined.

He grinned, feeling more satisfaction at that than the idea of the look on Baratheon’s face right about now. He’d thought her to be a damsel in distress and swooped in to save her from the tyrannical lion. But the damsel turned out to be much more than that. All that mattered was that she was with him now. All the money in the world couldn't compare.


End file.
